Quintessence
by annaconda12
Summary: "You could've killed them and you don't even care?" I exclaimed. It was not that I wasn't thankful for him coming to the rescue; it was that there had been something more to him in those moments in the alley… Something almost predatory. Jasper sighed and then finally said, "I dislocated his shoulder at most - they were just petty thugs. You know, most people might say thank you."


**Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight Saga or any of Stephanie Meyer's original characters.**

**A/N: Alright, so here are the need to know basics for this story... It's about four years since the end of Breaking Dawn, Alice let herself be destroyed but didn't leave Jasper with a reason why and he's been travelling the country trying to find some answers. You following? If so, then good! Might seem a bit outlandish but please just give this a read and let me know what you think, I've wanted to write a Jasper story for ages so here it is...**

* * *

**Quintessence**

**1: The Bad Samaritan**

The Sun had just about set over the Mississippi River in Downtown, the broad pinkish sky above growing darker and darker by the minute, and the streets were slowly but surely getting busier as people began to make their way home from work - which was both bad and good news for me.

I only had about seven dollars worth of change in my saxophone case on the side walk and, sure, the evening bustle would probably triple that then triple it again; however every time I busked this close to my aunt and uncle's home in the Garden District, there was always the risk that someone they knew would recognize me. If that happened, I'd be in deep shit.

My Buffet Alto had been an eighteenth birthday present that was probably worth more than Uncle Sean's beat-up old Ford, and technically I wasn't supposed to take it anywhere outside the house aside from the days I had jazz orchestra at school. And even to do that I'd had to argue away most of dignity - and between you and me, I'm pretty sure Aunt Julie kept it bottled in jars somewhere at home to shove back in my face if I ever lost, broke or damaged my saxophone.

The street was pretty crowded by the time the sunshine had completely disappeared so I began playing my own rendition of _Careless Whisper_, putting everything I had into the song because sometimes that's all that was needed to earn a Jackson. I wouldn't play any other way, anyway.

A woman with sticky-looking blonde hair pulled a face as she strolled by, knocking my backpack over with an almost inconspicuous kick of her heel and I had to stop myself from thumping her on the back of the head. It wasn't unusual for passersby to act like that - you didn't know what kind of day they were having and sometimes the presence of a busker blocking their path could be what severs a person's last nerve - but damn, I swear that particular woman didn't kick my stuff about by accident.

_Cool it, Beth,_ I told myself as I hit one of the high seductive notes. _You can pick it up after you're done with the freaking song._

That was about the time when I locked eyes with the pale guy across the street who'd been standing in the shade of the laundromat, seemingly on a phone call, for the past fifteen minutes. He was the type of guy you didn't see often in this part of Baton Rouge, with an obviously expensive suede coat and dark leather shoes that were Italian-looking. With a barely noticeable nod in my direction, he turned his attention back to the fancy cell phone in his hand again.

I simply continued with my music, earning a few dozen coins and several crumpled notes by the time I was done with my 80's classic.

"That was beautiful, ma'am," said a voice beside me a moment later.

The guy from across the street was all of a sudden only a few feet away on the sidewalk, offering a small but pleasant smile to me that was the kind of smile you only experience a few times in your life. Admittedly, it was enough to make me go a little bit weak at the knees but somehow I was able to stand relatively still as I accepted the compliment.

"Thanks," I said, smiling back at him as evenly as I could manage. "That's very kind of you to say."

"How long have you been playing the saxophone?"

I consider this for a moment. "Ever since I can remember - I think I started when I was about eight, maybe nine."

His smile never faltered as he stood across from me, and I was feeling more flattered by the second. It was almost as if he was radiating charm from every pore in his body.

"They say that's always the best time to start playing an instrument," he replied.

It was exactly what my old next-door neighbor back in Biloxi, a retiree called Nicky who had never grown out of his days as a musician, had told my grandmother when I had begged for two weeks straight to learn to play the saxophone. So she'd agreed to buy me a second-hand Elkhart as long as Nicky taught me everything I would ever need to know, just because she didn't like being pestered about stuff she didn't have a clue about.

For an entire summer I would sit on Nicky's porch every evening while he told me what to do, how to do it and why to do it. Once Nicky had finished his bottle of whatever he chose to drink that night and the street lights came on, he'd slip into a peaceful sleep and I would quietly make my way back to my grandmother's without waking him. Occasionally I'd stay a little longer because his snoring made me giggle, but it was always only for a minute or two. I loved every second of those lessons.

I think he died of liver failure when I was in middle school.

"Ma'am, how much will it cost me for you to play another song?" The guy asked, dragging me out of my thoughts. He had a wallet out and his dark eyes were locked on mine again as he waited for a response, obviously amused by the look on his almost perfect face.

"However much you think the song you'd like me to play is worth,"

"Do you know _Just Me, Just You _by Lester Young?"

I couldn't help laughing a little. "I know it, but you do realize it won't sound half as a good on an alto?"

He shockingly pulled a couple of fifty dollars bills and said, "Try your best then. I haven't heard it in forever."

To my utter surprise, as soon as I started playing, the guy dumped the fifties in my case and then strolled off down the street and into the darkness. He was gone in an instance and I was left playing the song he'd requested to a crowd of people who would never even know he hadn't heard it in forever.

* * *

After a few hours it was more or less quiet, aside from a couple of dozen older men hanging out in the bar at the corner of Main and North Twelfth. I quickly checked my cell for any potential missed calls or message from my aunt before I gathered my stuff together.

With a quick count up, I realized I'd made over two-hundred dollars and my jaw pretty much dropped to the floor.

I stuffed it into the inside pocket of my jacket and carefully packed away my saxophone before I decided to make for home. Uncle Sean was going to be speechless when he anonymously received the new leaf blower he needed for work, just like he was when I bought back the necklace Julie had pawned so that they had enough money for last Thanksgiving and left it in an unmarked envelope by the back door.

Instead of cutting across the Interstate by Victory Park like I usually did, I decided to walk down to North Boulevard and pass by the Woman's Club to see if my friend, Sarah Martinez, was volunteering there with her sisters this evening. They ran a soup kitchen every other week to help the homeless that lived by the river, and more often than not Sarah's family helped out. According to Sarah's oldest sister, Rosa, it was because they still owed their debt to the people who had helped them when they first crossed the border fifteen-years-ago.

Pulling out my battered cell, I decided to give her a call to see if she was in fact there or at her boyfriend's place in Broadmoor. On the third ring, as per usual, she answered.

"Hey girl, what's up?" Despite the fact that Sarah had been predominately raised in the US, she spoke with a thick Latino accent that made most boys go crazy for her if she felt nice enough to flirt with them.

"Hey Sarah, are you at the soup kitchen tonight or at Pete's?"

"I'm at Pete's - his mom made meatloaf and oh Lord, you know it's the best."

I didn't get a chance to reply before the phone was yanked from my hand and someone shoved me hard down a side alley.

Landing hard on my ass, I blinked a couple of times in the darkness before I was aware of the two guys standing before me. I didn't even have a chance to worry about whether my saxophone was okay after that rough fall before one of the guys was pulling me to my feet as if I were nothing more than rag doll. His hands felt like vices on my forearms and I forced myself not to whimper.

"Where d'ya think you're going?"

_Oh, shit, _was all that came to mind as I compared our muscle and body fat ratios. It was like a chicken versus two mountain lions, and I really didn't like those odds. Everyone knows the chicken doesn't stand a chance.

"How much money you got, baby?" The larger of the two growled, who had conveniently shoved my cell phone into a trash can at the opening of the alley.

"Do I look like a freaking ATM?" And then, whether it was a smart move or not, I looked up at the guy who was pretty much crushing my arms and spat in his face.

In an instance I was pinned against a wall, the force of the action knocking the air almost completely out of me. My feet were off the ground and I was suspended in his control as the thug reared his fist back to pound into me.

Funnily enough, I didn't close my eyes as I braced the rest of my body for the impact. I'm not sure why, it's not like I was feeling super brave. But if I had have closed them then I wouldn't have seen him suddenly go flying sideways, deeper and deeper down the alley, before his hand ever made it ten inches from my face.

I fell to my knees on the ground and, hugging my saxophone case to my chest, looked up.

In his place stood a guy who was shockingly familiar.

Dressed in that same suede coat and Italian leather shoes, the guy that had watched me from outside the laundromat earlier this evening didn't even hesitate before he propelled himself into the larger guy.

Then the screaming started.


End file.
